carry your heart with me
by veritas-always
Summary: An AU take on what could have happened if Cops and Robbers occurred after the events of 47 Seconds. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

_here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
__(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
__and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
__higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
__and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart  
__I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)  
__\- e.e cummings_

* * *

After she's untied both Rick and his mother, helping the latter stand up, she tells him that his daughter is outside the bank, but before he can leave she snags his sleeve, keeps him there for a minute.

His questioning eyes meet hers, as if he doesn't know what more there is to say, but _god- _she has so many words for him. Words that she is almost positive will only fall on deaf ears because he seems to be moving on without her and she isn't sure why. She thought they were almost there, so _close _to crossing the line she so quickly drew between them back in the fall, and even before. She's been getting better for him, but part of her wonders why she made him wait so long in the first place. She _knows_ he'd take her as she is, even if she's not completely whole, and now she thinks she only went to therapy for all these months to accept that, not to put herself together enough to be what she thinks he deserves.

"I really am glad you're okay, Rick," she tells him, voice rough with emotion. His eyes fall to where her hand is holding the fabric of his jacket, lingering there a minute before they snap back up to hers.

He pulls his arm away slowly, manages to get out the words _me too _before he walks away.

She lets out a shaky breath, grinds her teeth in an attempt to keep the tears from blurring her vision as she watches him leave, but it's not working. She feels a hand on her shoulder, twists around to see his mother - of all people, his _mother _is witnessing her heartbreak - giving her a condoling smile.

"Martha, I-"

The redhead interrupts, and Kate doesn't mind. She wasn't really sure what she was going to say anyways.

"Do you love him, Katherine?"

"What?" she breathes, swipes at the tear that escapes. The question is so forward, but Kate takes it to mean that Martha knows what's wrong with Rick, and if someone could just clue her in so she can get her partner back, that would be _great_.

"Do you love him? Honestly."

"Yes," Kate whispers, can't really lie about it. Not anymore. It feels so freeing to admit it out loud, instead of the words constantly bouncing around in her head.

"Oh, darling. You two have the absolute worst communication," Martha admonishes. Kate chokes on a laugh, hand covering her mouth. It's not funny, it's not. The redhead is already talking again. "He has been walking around for two weeks thinking you've been lying to him all this time because you _don't_ love him. But could he have asked you instead of just assuming? No. Could you have told the poor boy that you remember? Of course not. You both-"

"Wait, Martha," Kate stops her, needs her to back up a second, "How does he know?"

"He heard you. During that big bombing case you two worked on."

Kate's eyes slam shut. Bobby Lopez's interrogation. How did she _not _put the puzzle pieces together before?

"So, what?" Kate asks, opening her eyes, "He's trying to move on? Is that why he's been acting so strange?"

Martha nods in affirmation, but then-

"Come over for dinner tonight."

"Oh, no, Martha, I can't just-"

"Of course you can! I'm inviting you. I think it's the perfect opportunity to sort out your problems with Richard. I'm cooking. Be there at seven."

She presses a kiss to Kate's cheek, leaving the remains of the bank in a flurry of color. The detective sighs, bowing her head. How the hell is she supposed to show up at Rick's loft when he's been trying to get over her? She feels like she's blindsiding him.

But, on the contrary, she has the chance to _fix_ them. And that is exactly what she's going to do.

* * *

She gets to his loft a few hours later, after they've solved the murder of Agnes and figured out the reason behind the bank robbery. She spends a few minutes pacing outside his front door, palms sweaty and heart nearly beating out of her chest, because this is it. Either she fixes things between them tonight, or she loses her partner for good. Her confidence from earlier is gone, left behind is the insecure woman who feels she isn't good enough for him even still.

She lifts her hand up to knock, raps a few times on the door and waits. Martha is the one to answer, pulls her in for a warm hug.

Kate hugs the woman back, meets Rick's eyes from across the room. His brow is furrowed. He looks a little betrayed, no doubt wondering why she's in his home and why his mother invited her. Alexis is beside him, bright blue eyes flicking between the two of them. Martha lets her go, but grabs her wrist and pulls her into the kitchen as she goes on about how facing death demands celebrating life.

Kate doesn't take her eyes off of Rick, briefly registers Alexis backing away from him to take silverware to the table. Martha lets go of her hand to help her granddaughter set the table, muttering directions to the girl as they finish preparing dinner.

"Hey," Kate says quietly, searching Rick's face for _something_ to give her a read on what he's thinking.

"Hey," he returns, breaking eye contact.

"Do you think we could talk?"

"Why?" he asks too quickly. He's chopping vegetables and she winces when the knife hits the cutting board a little too hard.

"Castle-" she starts, preparing to argue, but he sets the knife down. Kate's mouth snaps shut, teeth bothering her bottom lip.

"Fine," he utters, waving his arm towards his office. She spins around and leads him there, tries to steady her breathing that really can't be steadied at all. Not when she's in his home, his family just mere yards away, preparing to explain herself to a man who has already made up his mind on what he thinks she feels.

But she's willing to fix it. And if he'll just hear her out, forget his own assumptions for a moment, she hopes that he will be willing too.

* * *

_The second half will be posted within the next couple of days._

_Thanks to Alex for being my beta, and also a wonderful friend. You're a rockstar._


	2. Chapter 2

He shuts the door behind them, brushes past her to sit on the edge of his desk, hands clasped in his lap, whole body tense. Defensive. She crosses her arms, pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth. She really doesn't even know where to begin.

"Beckett-" he starts impatiently, but she needs him to stop talking, stop assuming he knows what's going on.

"I'm sorry," she rushes out, eyes meeting his. He's barely three feet away, but- it feels like a greater void than just that. "Your mother told me that you heard me- that you know I remember."

"Good to know even my own mother isn't on my side," he mutters. She doesn't think she was supposed to hear that.

"Castle, there are no sides here. We're all on the same-"

"You lied to me for a _year_, Kate. You don't get to tell me that you're on my side. If you're just here to apologize and make me feel better, you can go home. I don't need a pity party."

"That's not-" She huffs, holding her hands up, palms facing outwards, calming herself. She wants to snap at him, but he's already wounded enough and she has to remind herself that _she's _the reason for that. He's staring at her with hopeless eyes - completely empty - and she just wants to _fix _it. "I just need you to listen to me," she tells him collectedly, almost pleading, but not quite.

His shoulders slump and he looks away. Giving up on fighting _with_ her, she tells herself, refuses to believe he's done fighting for her. For them.

"I'm not here to pity you. I'm not here because I just want to say I'm sorry and forget this ever happened. I'm here to tell you that you're _wrong_, Rick," she gets out around the sudden lump in her throat, surprised by the sudden onslaught of emotions. "I never would have lied to you because I don't feel the same. Don't you remember what I told you on the swings?"

"Of course," he replies, briefly meeting her eyes, no hesitation.

"What relationship would I have been talking about?" she asks him gently, pushes forward, needs to get this all out now, so tired of the miscommunication. "I've been going to therapy."

That surprises him. To any stranger, they wouldn't see it, but she catches the way his body tenses just the slightest, and she thinks they might be getting somewhere. Slowly but surely.

"I first went back because I felt like I wasn't enough," Kate admits. His eyes snap to hers, defiant. _There's _her partner, ready to fight for her again, she hopes.

"Enough for _what_?" he nearly demands, exasperated. "For me? Kate- I loved you. I forgave you for leaving those three months and completely shutting me out. I accepted that, I accepted your faults, because I loved you as you were. I didn't need anything more. What I _needed_ was honesty. I didn't need any of this."

He waves his hands at her, a permanent scowl on his face.

"Loved?" she quizzes pathetically.

"What?"

"You just- past tense," she explains dumbly. She wants to believe that it's not past tense - that he still does - but he's a writer, and words are his specialty.

He lets out a sigh, drops his head. "I wish it was."

Kate almost takes a step back at that. He wishes he didn't love her. "I don't," she asserts.

His eyes find hers. He looks torn. She doesn't want that. She wants him to be sure of her and where they stand.

"I don't want that to be past tense," she repeats, takes a step towards him, "Because I love you. Present tense."

The air is sucked out of his lungs. He stands, scrubs a hand down his face, body still hunched in defense. She doesn't know what more she can say, but she will try. If he needs her words, she'll try.

"I don't think I could have handled any of this worse than I have," she admits. He chokes out a laugh, lips quirked up, so she continues, because he's opening back up to her, she can see that. "And I'm sorry, Rick. You didn't deserve it. And if I could go back- I would change so many things. Hurting you like this was the last thing I wanted. But I do love you. I'm here now, and if you're willing, I think we should start over."

"We can't start over, Kate," he points out, kind of dryly, and a little bit hopeless.

She nods stupidly, feels it like a punch in the gut, what he isn't saying. _I can't forget how much you've hurt me_. "Right," she rasps.

Rick doesn't say anything more, just stands before her and she wonders if this is all they're ever going to be. Stuck in a tailspin. He loves her, but he doesn't want to be with her, someone so complicated, someone who hurt him so many times. The thought nearly suffocates her.

"I can go," she tells him, meeting his gaze. She takes a step back, ready to leave-

"Wait," he gets out. "I think there's something I need to show you."

His eyes- they're full of apologies. For what, she has no idea. But the grief speckled there tells her that she's not going to like whatever it is.

"I think you should sit down," he advises.

Her brow furrows. "Castle?"

"Kate," he pleads.

"Okay," she concedes, drops down into the sofa cushions. He reaches for the remote to his smart board, hits the power button and the device comes to life. Her photo is glaring at them from the middle of the screen. She glances between it and her partner.

"Why am I on there?" she asks slowly.

He goes to the screen, taps her face with his index finger. And then she's staring at all of the evidence she has stored on her own murder board at home.

She says his name on a whisper, needs him to explain what the _hell _she's doing on his own fake murder board.

So he tells her everything, from the first phone call, the meetings, getting her to stop investigating her mother's murder. When he's finished, she buries her face in her hands. He _can't _do this. She can't lose him to this too. She hasn't investigated in months, and she's safe because of that. He made it clear that she is, that this Smith guy is helping hold up their end of the deal, but if he's investigating- then what the hell is the point?

"Say something," he begs quietly.

"You can't do this," she tells him, a growl in her voice. "You can't investigate this, Castle."

Her voice is shaking, but she has no control over that right now.

"Neither can you," he snaps. She studies him standing over by his desk, body completely deflated. They are so off kilter right now that it's almost making her dizzy, fills her eyes up with tears.

"I'm not. You made sure I wasn't," she retorts. "But they will _kill _you, Rick. If I'm not, you're not."

"I- what?"

"What was confusing about that? If I'm not investigating, then you have to promise me that you won't either."

"No, no. I know. But you're not… mad?" he inquires hesitantly. She stands, takes the remote from him and shuts the murder board down, setting the device back on his desk.

"I am mad," she states. "But more than that, I can't lose you to this. They've killed people I love before, Rick, and I don't- I _can't _go through that with you."

"You still want this? Us?" He flinches when he asks, as if he's afraid to remind her of what he's done, why he thinks she will change her mind.

"Do you?" she challenges. Because after everything she's said tonight, she still doesn't know what he wants.

"I never stopped," he admits honestly, giving her the same look he did when he saw her for the first time after she was shot, unbridled joy and love for her.

A slow smile creeps across her face, and she has to duck her head, her hair a curtain and hiding her joy. But his hand comes up to cradle her jaw as he steps closer, slowly raising her face back up to his. He hesitates when their eyes lock, as if waiting for her to back out, but she holds his gaze, lets him read her like she knows he does so well.

He must find affirmation written somewhere in her soul, because he leans in, brushes his lips against hers gently, testing the waters. Her fingers find the fabric of his button-up, pulling him nearer, meeting his kiss firmly. Strong, like they are together.

He breaks it all too soon. Probably for the best, since his mother and daughter are in the next room. As if reminding them of the dinner that is awaiting, her stomach growls.

She giggles - _giggles _\- and buries her face in his neck, arms winding around his waist. He returns the hug, holds her tightly, completely sure of her, of them, for the first time in two weeks.

She remembers that he could have _died _today, and she unconsciously tightens her grip on him, if that's even possible, sinking further into his embrace.

"I love you," he rasps, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of her head.

She lets out a breath of relief that she didn't realize she was holding. He loves her.

She leans back slightly, just enough to see his eyes, lets him see her happiness when she returns the phrase with an openness she hasn't possessed since before her mother died.

He kisses her once more before nudging her back towards his family. Her fingers find his, the digits intertwining effortlessly.

His mother and daughter are painfully obvious when they notice the couple migrating towards the kitchen, both pairs of eyes lingering just a second too long on their locked hands.

It's Martha who breaks the silence first, rounding the counter to pull them both into a hug.

"I'm so happy for you. Both of you," she says with an exuberance that only Martha can possess.

Kate feels a blush crawling up her neck, glances at Rick only to find him already beaming at her. Alexis comes to stand beside her grandmother, eyeing Kate warily. The detective holds her breath. Alexis snapped at her today, rightfully - and painfully - so, and Kate realizes that her disapproval will ruin what they have before it's really even given a chance to begin.

"Alexis," Rick says her name softly, almost a plea. The teen smiles, pulling Kate into a hug, both an apology for taking her pain out on the detective and forgiveness for causing her father heartbreak.

"Well," Martha declares, "The table is set and dinner is ready. Who's hungry?"

* * *

Dinner goes smoothly. His family is always easy to have conversation with, but now, with she and Rick taking their relationship to the next level, it's better. She feels like she's gained complete acceptance into their family, and she's so grateful. She's always loved how fiercely protective they are of one another, but now she truly feels like she's part of that.

After dinner, she helps clear the table and clean dishes, finds herself oddly content with the domesticity of it all. His family retires upstairs not long after and they're alone once again.

He offers her another glass of wine, must not want her to leave, which is okay. Perfect, even. She doesn't want to go. After these rocky past couple of weeks, she finds herself reluctant to leave him. Not now that she has him back.

Their conversation has lulled, and their wine glasses are empty. Now they're just stalling, pathetically so. He takes her glass from her hand, sets it in the sink and flicks the kitchen lights off, leaving the space lit in a soft glow from the light above the oven. She opens her mouth to thank him for dinner, make her exit, but his large hand envelops her own.

"Stay," he says gently. Not a command, but not really a question either, as if he sees her internal debate on whether or not she should leave. She gives him a soft smile, gives his hand a squeeze.

"I'll stay."

* * *

_I was seriously blown away by the alerts I received for this story. Thank you all so, so much. _

_And thanks to Alex for reading it over. You're the best._

_I hope you all enjoyed this second part. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated._


End file.
